


What's Eating Adam Parrish?

by hockeydyke



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: College, Established Relationship, Food Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-The Raven King, Poverty, Ronan Lynch is a good influence, This is actually pretty happy despite the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 18:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18349640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeydyke/pseuds/hockeydyke
Summary: Adam goes to Georgetown. Adam has a scholarship and a stipend for housing and food. Adam... doesn't really know what to do with himself.Then Ronan visits.





	What's Eating Adam Parrish?

**Author's Note:**

> More detailed content warning: Adam's got some stuff going on with his attitude toward food/taking care of himself. He skips a few meals during this story. Read at your own risk and take care of yourself!

Georgetown is fine, but Adam can’t stand living in a dorm.

It’s not even his floormates who are the problem. Well-- usually. Sometimes when they decide to set up a karaoke night in the lounge at 3 a.m. during “Turn-up Tuesday” while Adam’s trying to sleep before his morning class the next day, and then he thinks it’s reasonable to hate them just a little bit. But mostly they’re just stupid 18-year-olds stumbling along and trying to figure out how to live on their own for the first time.

No, they’re not the issue, because the issue is that living in a dorm is making Adam realize how much of a shitty roommate he is.

It’s not in the traditional sense. His roommate Kyle is fine, if a little unrelatable to him in the sense that he orders them a pizza delivered directly to their hall the night after move-in without asking Adam first, and then has the audacity to tell Adam that it’s chill, Adam doesn’t have to pay him back for his half, no big deal.

So he’s one of those, Adam realizes. Even then on the first night, with his full ride and grants for housing and dining plans, Adam is still budgeting. Ordering pizza is the kind of thing that adds up quick if you’re Adam, but not if you’re a Kyle.

Or a Gansey. Or a Henry. Or a Ronan.

Adam forces out a gust of air through his nostrils as he sits down in his wobbly dorm desk chair and picks up a slice of greasy pizza. He’s not homesick, but he is a little people-sick already, and it hasn’t even been 24 hours since he drove out of Henrietta.

He has everything he’s been working toward his whole life. He even has a fair amount of money saved up in his account from working his three jobs all summer but he’s still got his hackles raised like the money is going to suddenly disappear from his bank account if he doesn’t check it every few hours.

Needless to say, it’s eating away at him, and he’s only human. Maybe. That is to say, he starts resorting to old habits.

***

$500 is somehow a lot of money, but also not very much it all. It’s also the amount that Adam receives as a grocery stipend with his scholarship, and he’s very happy about that. He can make that last four months easily, seeing as he’s had to feed himself with less than that in the past.

As it turns out, college makes that even easier. He has a few acquaintances from class, and he occasionally hangs out with Kyle and his group of equally agreeable and boring friends, but there’s no one close enough to scold him for skipping meals.

Anyway, it seems like everyone else is too busy with classes and jobs and internships to stop for lunch breaks in the first place. In fact, when his stomach rumbles loudly during a study group and he sheepishly makes an excuse about missing lunch for work, he gets a nod of approval from his classmates. Overworking himself is something to be proud of because it means he’s taking advantage of all the opportunities available to him now.

So maybe he goes hungry more often than not. He’s still eating about as much a day as he did in high school, so it’s not like he’s doing worse. In fact, he’d argue that he’s doing better at taking care of himself in some ways, since he’s sleeping somewhere between five and seven hours every night. He even takes a nap sometimes, on the days he finishes class early in the afternoon and doesn’t have a shift at the campus library afterward.

The difference is astounding, honestly. Paying attention in class is so much easier now that he can stay awake without having to drive a pencil into his arm every few seconds to keep from dozing off. He has a lot more energy now for other stuff, too-- he starts going on runs in the morning, making his way from campus down to M Street to look at all the shops before the tourists flood in for daytime strolls, or up to Rock Creek Park, which reminds him of Cabeswater just a little bit if he goes deep enough that he can’t hear the cars on the road around it.

This makes it even worse, of course, when he gets a few weeks deep into the semester and has to pull his first all-nighter. He probably doesn’t even need to do that, seeing as the paper he’s writing isn’t due until Monday, but Ronan is visiting over the weekend and by the time it’s midnight he’s in the zone writing and decides just to stay up until he finishes it.

He’s pulled so many all nighters at this point in his life that he has it down to a system. At 6 a.m. he hits submit and turns in his paper, then immediately sets his alarm for 7:30 a.m. (to give him exactly one full REM cycle) and throws himself into bed.

He then promptly sleeps through his alarm.

He wakes up thirty minutes into his first class a day and swears under his breath the entire time he spends throwing on a pair of khakis and swiping at his mouth with his toothbrush. There’s no time for the cheap instant coffee he’s been drinking, so he grabs his bag and runs out the door and continues to jog the rest of his way to class.

When he arrives out of breath and tries to make his way to his usual seat in the lecture hall as fast as he can, he finds that no one even spares him a glance. But he knows the professor must have noticed, and he’s ashamed that he was weak enough to sleep in so late. He sits and he tries to listen and take notes, but mostly he just stews in his own guilt. He feels disgusting.  
He continues to feel a little bit less than human throughout his next two classes of the day, and his embarrassing experiences range from falling asleep three times in his biology gen ed to accidentally answering a question in his Spanish class in Latin.

It’s a mess. He used to go days on end without sleeping in high school, so why can’t he manage now? It was just one night and now he feels like he’s an eighty-year-old dog with arthritis.

Defeated, he returns to his dorm. He doesn’t make anything to eat for a late lunch because he spent money on Chipotle for dinner last night and if he saves a little on food costs he can maybe afford a new suit jacket for an interview he has coming up for an internship next semester.

He doesn’t have work tonight, but he does have an evening class in a few hours. He doesn’t want to give in, but he has a feeling he’s only going to be able to pay attention if he takes a short nap now. This time when he returns to his room he sets five alarms, all a few minutes after the other, just in case.

Then, before turning off his phone (new, shiny, too good for him), he checks his bank account app, even though he has his balance memorized down to the cent.

Everything is as it should be. He closes his eyes, and then he sleeps restlessly.

Adam Parrish doesn’t want to think about money as much as he does. In fact, it’s the opposite of what he wants. For a long time, his dream wasn’t even to have enough money for college, or to have new clothes, or to eat every day. It was just to have the ability to lay his head down and sleep peacefully without thinking about the one thing that’s always on his mind.

***

Apparently he hasn’t adequately dealt with the stress of his day, or the stress of college life in general, because he loses it a few hours later over the smallest of things: the common kitchen dish soap bottle, which he finds perched at the top of the trash can with an inch of soap remaining at the bottom when he heads to the kitchen to make some ramen before his class.

Adam has just woken up from his nap. His hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs, and opens up the floor group chat.

_5:47 p.m._

_Adam Parrish: I don’t know who threw away the soap, but the bottle isn’t empty yet. When it gets that low we can just add a little bit of water to the container to make it last longer. Please stop wasting perfectly good supplies._

_Adam Parrish: Also, the sink is full of dirty dishes. I can do them this time because I need to use it but please be mindful of the fact that forty people share this kitchen. Wash your own dishes._

Passive-aggressive messaging doesn’t do much to soothe his frustration, so he rolls up his sleeves and starts running the water as he gets started with a particularly violent session of washing other people’s dishes. It takes ten minutes for him to make any noticeable progress, and by the time he’s finishing up his drying he’s fallen into such a groove that he doesn’t even notice someone else enter the lounge until they clear their throat.

“Jesus!” Adam says, only narrowly avoiding dropping someone’s mug. It’s adorned with the campaign logo of some bland-looking politician that Adam doesn’t recognize. Probably the father of one of his floormates.

He turns around to see none other than his boyfriend leaning against the doorway. Ronan is tan from a summer of working outside at the Barns and what also appears to be a layer of dirt that ends abruptly at his collarbone, leaving an inch or so of pale skin visible between the tan line and the collar of his black tank top. Adam has to force his eyes back up to meet Ronan’s eyes, which are narrowed and having way too much fun.

“Hey, Parrish,” Ronan says. “Didn’t realize you’d picked up a housekeeping job on top of all the other shit you do.”

“Christ, Lynch. Fuckin’ warn a guy,” Adam says, crossing his arms and waiting for Ronan to slink over.

He does soon enough, giving Adam’s shoulder a gentle punch before wrapping his arms around his waist. Adam grumbles but lifts his hand to rub Ronan’s hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying how bristly it still is, even though Ronan has let it go without a haircut for longer than he usually does.

“You weren’t supposed to get in until tomorrow,” he says, breathing in the earthy smell of the Barns and the not-as-nice sweaty smell of an unshowered Ronan.

“Time isn’t real,” Ronan says. “And Blue got home a day early and said she’d watch the brat. So here I am.”

“Here you are,” Adam says, closing his eyes. He’s still exhausted enough that he could probably fall asleep right here, standing up in Ronan’s arms.

Then, of course, his phone buzzes with a new alert. He pulls it out of his pocket, looks down. and has just enough time to read _We can just buy another bottle of soap, nbd!_ before Ronan snatches the device out of his hands.

“Oh, you’re ornery today,” he says, grinning down at the phone, then scrolling up a little. “You’ve resorted to taking out your anger on all the annoying college students?

“I’m an annoying college student.”

“Yes, but you’re my annoying college student,” Ronan, leaning over to kiss Adam, but he says in a tone just facetious enough to give Adam warning that he’s going to change his mind and try to bite his lip instead

“Oh my God, Ronan. You’re literally going feral,” Adam says, pushing him away and putting away the last of the dishes. “You can hang out in my room for a bit. I have class.”

“It’s not school time. It's nighttime.”

“There’s this thing called an evening class, Ronan. They’re meant for--”

“Okay, boring,” Ronan interrupts. “I don’t care. You did have an evening class, but now you don’t, because you’re coming with me.”

Adam sighs. He respects that college definitely wasn’t the right choice for Ronan, but he also wishes that he took Adam’s own decisions and priorities a little bit more seriously. “Ronan. I’m here to learn, and this professor takes attendance. I’m not going to do something that could jeopardize my grade.”

Ronan makes a face. There were probably too many academic-related words in that sentence for him. “Don’t you get a certain amount of free absences a semester?”

Adam shuts the door of the mug and cup cupboard above the sink. “I get three for that class.”

“And how many have you used?”

“None. I’m saving them. In case I get sick. Or if there’s an emergency.” When you’re dating Ronan and friends with Gansey and the like, you never know when an emergency is lurking around the corner.

Ronan hums, then gives Adam a once-over that makes him feel naked, somehow, even though he’s still wearing his khakis and button-up from class.

“Okay,” Ronan says, slowly, drawing it out, “But you can’t always save things up for something that might not even happen. It means you miss out in the meantime.”

Adam doesn’t answer that. It’s a little bit too wise, too on-the-nose, and he can’t think of a smart enough sarcastic response.

“If you don’t stop me I’m going to drive over the fence into the White House and cause an international incident,” Ronan says, as if to balance out the fact that he actually just said something smart. “There’ll be a SWAT team. And Secret Service. I’ll be on the news.”

“Oh my God.” Adam throws down the dish towel. “Fine, okay? You can bring me to do something stupid with you, but I’m blaming you if my professor is mad.”

Ronan doesn’t quite cheer, but it’s a near thing. He lets out a sound not unlike a happy wolf, then takes a firm hold of Adam’s arm and drags him to the elevator, then outside and into the cooling evening sun. His car is parked right in front of the dorm in what is definitely not an actual parking space, but it thankfully hasn’t gotten towed.

“Okay, we’re getting food, because you look like you haven’t eaten in a week,” Ronan says as soon as they’re in the car and seated, and even buckled in, in Adam’s case.

“That’s not true,” Adam says.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

Adam is silent for a moment. Then: “Last night. Dinner.”

“Christ on a fucking bike, Parrish,” Ronan says, slamming on the brakes particularly hard when a light in front of them goes red. “Fucking asshole. I knew it. You’ve lost weight. You look tired. I’m going to murder you.”

“Okay,” Adam says, too tired to argue. He knows this is just how Ronan gets when he’s worried.

Apparently this wasn’t the correct response, because if anything, Ronan looks more concerned as he glances at Adam in the passenger seat, brow furrowed, fingers clenching the steering wheel too hard.

“I’m going to order you a pizza every night,” he says, almost cautiously.

“Don’t do that,” Adam says, too tired to argue any more than that.

“I won’t do it if you take care of yourself. See? Easy.”

“You have a green light, Lynch,” Adam says dryly.

Ronan hits the gas hard enough that the tires squeal and Adam yelps, and the moment is over. Adam knows that Ronan isn’t going to drop the issue, but he’s not sure if he’s actually mad about it. Maybe it is a good idea to have someone who knows that maybe he has a tendency to skip meals. If Ronan can bother him to remind him to treat himself a little better, well. It might be annoying, but maybe it’s something he get used to.

***

They end up getting tacos and walking along the National Mall for a bit. Ronan cusses out a couple tourists. They head back to Georgetown and kiss while sitting at the waterfront. Ronan cusses out a seagull. Adam stands there and tries to stifle quiet laughter behind his hand.

It’s nice. It isn’t until they drive back up to campus (and Adam makes Ronan actually get a weekend parking pass) that Adam remembers he’s skipping class at all, and he honestly can’t bring himself to feel that bad.

It’s not ideal. The twin bed is not enough for the two of them, and Kyle is home so it’s a little awkward, and the girls next door have apparently started a moving-furniture-around club, so they can’t even get a quiet moment to themselves. But it also makes Adam feel less like an adult with five million things to do and five million more he should be planning for, and more like a college kid.

They’re not the perfect couple and they both have bad habits to work on. Ronan pointedly says nothing about the small hoard of freebies on the shelf in Adam’s dorm room and the calculator he keeps by his bedside to work on his budget, and Adam doesn’t say anything about the half-healed gash on Ronan’s forehead. Farming can be tough work, especially when you’re an accident-prone idiot like Ronan.

Adam worries about money a lot, and that might be something he’ll never outgrow. But he’s also eighteen, and stupidly in love, and can afford to maybe treat himself well and act young now and again.

He’s working on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha... we love DC student workaholic culture. Sorry, Adam. Four years of that is going to be rough.
> 
> I've never written Raven Cycle fic before, so I hope you liked it! Please leave a comment to let me know what you think.


End file.
